


Campaign Problems

by mandilorian



Series: Campaign Solutions [1]
Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Politics, Anal Sex, Background Relationships, Cosette/Marius/Courfeyrac, Explicit Sexual Content, I set out for Scandal and ended up around Veep, I wanted to fit more porn in but the plot wouldn't let me rest, Intercrural Sex, M/M, One Night Stands, Or Is It?, Oral Sex, Vermont, a lot of speeches because Enjolras
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-11
Updated: 2021-02-11
Packaged: 2021-03-17 14:55:23
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 16,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29352330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mandilorian/pseuds/mandilorian
Summary: Grantaire shows up nice and early for his new job. The PR firm he founded with Feuilly and Jehan just got hired by an independent gubernatorial candidate and they can't wait to prove themselves. Grantaire might have overdone it with the celebration a few nights before, letting a random blond pick him up from a club, but hey, they are both adults and he never has to see that guy that only goes by E ever again. He has to focus anyway, he is meeting his new boss, Mr. Enjolras in a few minutes. What sort of weird name is Enjolras though?Enjolras.E.Enjolras.Now, can they keep their emotions in check and win Enjolras an office at the same time?
Relationships: Enjolras/Grantaire (Les Misérables)
Series: Campaign Solutions [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2214213
Comments: 11
Kudos: 35





	Campaign Problems

**Author's Note:**

> Now that politics is boring again I am back on my bullshit.

Music and tequila drummed through his veins, helping his whole body move on its own accord. The whole club was buzzing with barely restrained energy. Bodies of all shapes and sizes writhed together, jumping to the same beat. Grantaire swayed with them.

Joly and Bossuet were nowhere to be found, but the duo had started drinking about two hours before everyone else got here, so it was safe to assume they were now all over each other in a dark corner somewhere. Grantaire wasn’t worried.

PRide, the PR firm he’d founded with Feuilly and Jehan two years ago, had scored their very first big contract yesterday. An independent gubernatorial candidate for Vermont had just hired them for a three-month term before the election and offered well above their usual fee. Grantaire was going to start on Monday, working from the campaign headquarters and coordinating with his team from there. Joly and Bossuet were here strictly for celebratory purposes and moral support.

From the dance floor, he saw Eponine surveying the club. She was hard to ignore, black leather pants and thigh-high boots befitting her reign of the land. Eponine had worked her way up from waiting tables to bartending to managing. The club had been on the brink of collapsing when she started and she was able to buy it with all her savings plus all the money Grantaire and Bahorel had (which wasn’t much). She gave him a cut of the profits each month and had put him down as a co-owner despite Grantaire’s protests. He winked at her from the ground and she rolled her eyes affectionately before picking up empty glasses from a nearby table and heading back to the kitchen.

With Eponine gone, Grantaire looked around for his other friends and saw both Feuilly and Jehan in deep conversation with Bahorel, another co-owner who enjoyed bartending way more than the management part. He smiled and nodded at them, but completely forgot about them two seconds later.

Sitting next to Jehan was the most arresting man Grantaire had ever seen. He had a halo of blonde hair framing his face. Piercing blue eyes so pale they were almost gray under the dim light. His back was casually rested against the bar, his elbows propped up on the counter. His broad chest rose and fell distractingly and Grantaire couldn’t help staring. The man smirked, clearly realizing the effect he had on Grantaire, he got up and made his way to the dance floor.

***

Enjolras had been nursing his glass of bourbon for the last hour. He was content to watch his friends unwind before the work truly began. He didn’t like to dance unless he found a particularly good reason to, and he wasn’t even looking for one tonight, but find one he did.

It was unbelievable that not everyone in the club was staring at the guy. He was wearing a thin v-neck that clung to his body like a second skin. His charcoal jeans were torn at the knees and instead of looking like a pretentious hipster, he was made to glide around in them. He moved like the tide, unrestrained and graceful. People ebbed and flowed around him, inconsequential compared to the gravity of this dark-haired man. Enjolras had never quite seen anything like it and his self-control was useless in the face of such pull. He gave up on trying and allowed his instinct to carry his feet to the dance floor.

He shouldered a few people out of the way, men and women who also had eyes on the man. He wasn’t worried though, the man had already seen Enjolras and they were now watching each other like they were the only people in the room. He was as beautiful up closed, full lips with dark lashes and golden skin that spoke of mixed heritages. The two most alluring things about him, however, were the challenging eyes and the crooked grin. The air between them crackled with possibilities and Enjolras closed the distance.

“Having a good time?” he asked, whispering to the stranger’s ear, taking advantage of the thick crowd around them. 

“Getting better by the minute,” he replied, edging closer under the pretense of making himself heard.

Encouraged by the gesture, Enjolras moved his hips closer, loosely wrapping himself around the smaller man, who flawlessly twisted around to face him.

“R, a pleasure,” he says, extending his right hand between them, even though there was hardly any space for it.

Enjolras chuckled, “Are we doing initials? I’ll go by E then.” He took the hand offered, gripping it for longer than necessary, and used it to bring R closer. They were swaying face to face now, less than a hair's breadth away. R gives him a challenging grin.

They held on tight in the thickness of the crowd, letting the music take over. R was a fantastic dancer; he knew how to move with the drums without leaving Enjolras’ body. They were intoxicated with each other, twisting and turning, running their hands all over on a quest for more skin. R turned around and pressed his back to Enjolras’ chest, letting Enjolras envelop him in the circle of his arms. He rested his head on Enjolras’ shoulder, smiling like a Cheshire cat, and darted the tip of his tongue out to lick Enjolras’ neck, his hips swaying to the music, grinding against Enjolras pointedly.

“Do I win some kind of prize if I wait for you to ask me to get some fresh air before dragging you out to the back alley and letting you have your way with me?”

Enjolras laughed and nearly had to stop himself from carrying R out to the fire escape. They emerged into a promised alley. The fresh air woke him up considerably and the street lights gave him a chance to take R in.

R, however, had another plan.

He slammed Enjolras onto the wall, invading his personal space and crushing their mouths together.

The kiss skipped over all of its natural progression. It wasn’t chaste, or sweet, or tentative. It was a clash of unrestrained desire, absolutely filthy and thrilling. R was generous with his tongue and he let Enjolras suck his bottom lip between his teeth before he moaned lavishly. Enjolras gripped his hips and switched them around, using his much taller frame to trap R. Not to be outdone, R got one leg wrapped around his waist to bring their hips together and Enjolras rewarded him by lifting both R’s legs and holding him against the wall.

“Oh. Of course, you are a show-off,” R said with a laugh. He attacked Enjolras’ neck with a purpose and Enjolras roamed his hands down to R’s ass. He gave it a firm squeeze and felt himself growing harder by the second. He panted into R’s ear 

“Fuck, I need to see what your ass looks like. Would you let me keep all the lights on when you come home with me?”

R smirked up at him, backing away. “Sure of ourselves, are we?” But Enjolras chased his lips and drank him in once more. He whispered to R’s ear.

“How far would you let me take you?”

R’s eyes went wide. “Here? Fuck, I want you to take me all the way, but not right here. Good thing I know the owner has a storage room just around the corner though.” he said, tucking Enjolras to a shabby door a few steps away. 

They turned the lights on, pushing a chair against the door, hoping it would buy them a few minutes if anyone decided to come in, and they were back at it again at another wall immediately. Enjolras pinned R’s wrists above his head with one hand, judging from the pleased noises he let out, R was completely on board with this. He followed up with his former quest and undid R’s belt while kneeling down. 

“May I?” Enjolras loved consent.

“Oh my God, who even are you?” R replied, incredulous. “Of fucking course.”

Enjolras didn’t need to be told twice, so he dived down and tucked R’s tight jeans and his boxers (not briefs, cute) down to his ankles. 

Enjolras thanked his luck for R’s club owner friend. He finally got to see the man’s absolutely breathtaking physique, fully hard and straining with arousal. He gave the throbbing vein a tentative lick and R moaned satisfyingly. 

“Should we use a condom?” Enjolras had to ask. He would normally insist on one, but he had never tried to blow someone in a storage room behind a club before, so he was not exactly on top of his game.

“Your call, but I got a clean bill of health three months ago and I haven’t done anything since.” R replied, visibly trying to keep himself still.

“Oh good, I was dying to taste you.” Enjolras wasted no time taking as much of R in his mouth as possible. He thought of every trick he had known and tried all of them at once. He sucked the tip, twisted his wrist up and down to cover every sensitive patch of R’s skin. He reached his hand around to R’s back and grabbed his ass again, this time much harder. R let out a long whine and spread his legs out while carding his fingers through Enjolras’ hair. 

“Please, E, please,” he moaned and Enjolras didn’t need R to beg, but he appreciated it anyway. He reached up to R’s face with his other hand and sucked him harder to keep him interested. R enthusiastically rewarded him with a wet suck all over his fingers. They both were tattering on the edge when Enjolras circled his finger around R’s entrance.

The effect was immediate, R’s hips buckled and his knees nearly gave out. Enjolras kept them steady with his hands and mouth. He pushed a finger inside of R and tried to take more of him into his mouth, nearly choking himself in the process. R gestured towards his jeans and Enjolras found a small package of lube. He sent a knowing smile up to R.

“Sure of ourselves, are we?”

“Oh shut up. You were eye-fucking me for half the night and I thought one of us should at least be prepared.” 

No argument there. Enjolras dipped his fingers in the package and spread the content around R’s entrance. One finger turned to two and R brought his hand to his mouth in a valiant attempt to stop the most delicious sounds coming out of him. Enjolras spread his fingers, stretching R and pushing into a spot that made him scream. 

“Fuck, E, that is too good. Ahh, you have to s--” Enjolras didn’t let him finish. He got up and turned R around, pushing his own pants down impatiently. He rubbed his painful erection on the cleft of R’s ass, only pushing in slightly, knowing it wasn’t enough for the babbling, shaking body beneath him.

“Beg for what you want, R. Do you want my cock or my mouth?”

“Your cock now, mouth later. Come on, man, fuck me.” 

Enjolras hesitated. He wanted it more than anything at the moment, but the logistics seemed impractical. He spread more lube onto Grantaire’s thighs instead. “Push your legs together?” he asked.

Grantaire understood immediately, he clenched tights and Enjolras slammed his cock down right beneath his firm ass, sliding in and out, grazing R’s perineum and all the sensitive flesh beneath it. He set a punishing pace, not bothering with finesse. The dancing and the making out were more than enough foreplay for the night and as he slid into R, he had never been happier the wait was over.

“R, you are insane. You feel so fucking good I don’t know where I want to come,” Enjolras growled into his ear, gripping his hips hard enough to leave a mark and took R into his right hand. The man unraveled entirely, coming all over Enjolras’ fist and the wall. His climax made his legs go tight around Enjolras and he groaned with appreciation.

“God, how did you do that? I normally last much longer, I promise,” R said, voice still shaking.

Enjolras thrust into his waiting heat a few more times before whispering to his ear. “That was rude of you to come before me, it would be polite to come again just from my cock, yeah?”

R’s hips pressed his entire body closer and Enjolras debated his resolve on the subject, but he had made up his mind. R would look absolutely gorgeous spreading out on his king-sized bed.

He withdrew from R with much hesitation and the man let out a disapproving huff. “I’d rather wait. I would love to fuck you into my mattress. The wall is pretty thick so you can be as loud as you want.” He ran his teeth on R’s earlobe. “I know you were holding back.”

R just shook his head, picking up his pants from the ground. “Your discipline is insane. We have a deal as long as you live less than a block away.”

It was Enjolras’ turn to laugh. He hadn’t come out to find anyone tonight, but life had surprised him with this mouthy, irresistible guy. He made sure his own clothing was at least moderately presentable before pulling R in for another kiss.

“One for the road. It’s a ten-minute walk, will you manage?” he said, nuzzling into R while ushering the man out of the storage room. The coast was clear and they moved on to the street. They were still all over each other and Enjolras once again questioned whether he should have finished what they’d started in the storage room just so they could move more efficiently. R was extremely uncooperative and he took such an obvious delight in testing Enjolras’ principle on public decency. He shoved a hand down Enjolras’ back pocket, licked his ear while whispering increasingly graphic images into it, and inserted himself into Enjolras’ space so tightly the cold September air barely affected them.

“Do you often take strange men back to your place after getting them off?” R asked.

Enjolras shook his head, amused. “I actually haven’t done this since college. I am starting a really busy job on Monday, though, so this is kind of my last carefree night for the next few months.”

R laughed again, low and bright like wind charms. He had lovely, expressive eyes that Enjolras suspected would even look better during the day without street shadows obscuring them. “Damn, that’s a lot of pressure on me. What if I’m not very good? Would you need a do-over?”

“I could be persuaded to give you a few chances to prove yourself.”

“Magnanimous of you.”

Their gentle back-and-forth was interrupted by Enjolras’ phone blasting out of his pocket. He swore and fished it out. No one would call him in the middle of the night unless it was an emergency and Combeferre’s name on the screen confirmed that.

“What’s up?” 

What was up was a series of minor clerical errors that could invalidate Enjolras’ candidacy for the gubernatorial campaign. None of it would have given anyone a pause except that he was a newcomer, challenging the status quo and he knew for a fact that both big parties were undertaking a time-wasting and expensive campaign to get rid of him. One day short on his residential record in Vermont could cause Enjolras everything. Enjolras swore profusely, glancing at Grantaire who got his phone out in a polite effort not to eavesdrop. This was insane. Enjolras loved his causes and he had never put anything before it. This lovely, dark-haired creature here just gave him a small pause in his plans though.

“Damn it, R, I am so sorry, but something came up and I really really have to go. I’m sorry!” He practically begged for forgiveness from this stranger, but there was nothing else Enjolras could do.

R looked stunned, but he shook his head and nodded. “Hey, it sounded important. Duty calls and all that. You are something else, E. Good luck with your new job.” he laughed and pretended to tip his invisible cap toward Enjolras with a look that he couldn’t quite discern. Enjolras ran back for a kiss on his cheek before sprinting toward the taxi stand.

***

Grantaire’s Sunday was spent nursing the weirdest hungover in existence. By all accounts, he should have been fine. He drank a little less than usual and went to bed at a very respectable hour of two in the morning. No, the haze was from that insane encounter with E. What does E stand for anyway? Eric? Elliot? He did look like an Elliot, all tall and blonde with a strong hint of pretension.

Thinking about a beautiful man he was unlikely to ever see again wasn’t going to make his hangover go away, so Grantaire peeled himself off the bed, took a shower, and made coffee. He was on his second bowl of cinnamon toast crunch when Jehan and Feuilly burst into his apartment.

“Are you ready for tomorrow? You are not ready!” Jehan exclaimed while shuffling a bunch of papers into a plastic folder and cleaning up Grantaire’s desk.

“I’m not ready for tomorrow because it is _not_ tomorrow, Jehan. It’s not even noon today yet,” Grantaire replied, refusing to get up from his breakfast bar. Jehan was being dramatic, after all. He turned to Feuilly, offering him a cup of coffee.

Feuilly accepted, but he, too, was on Grantaire’s case. “Are you sure you have everything? This is our chance to really take off and I have full faith in you, you know that, but I just want to make sure we are prepared. “

Grantaire sighed. This was their very first political campaign hire. Their tiny PR firm mostly worked for small social enterprises and charities. Despite Grantaire’s frequent complaints about effectively working for free, the three of them were complete suckers for lost causes.

Jehan turned around, eyes enormous. “You still haven’t got their policy statement here! What if they quiz you on it tomorrow?”

“We want a society where human life isn’t a commodity. We want everyone to get a chance to reach their potential. And we believe that billionaires should be guillotined,” Grantaire recited mechanically not unlike a child being made to repeat the Pledge of Allegiance (another thing his new employee was trying to eliminate). 

“Good, lose the sarcasm though, it’s unbecoming,” Feuilly replied, checking Jehan’s organization in the process. “I know it is going to be a bit of a pain for you to work at the campaign headquarters for three months without us, but we are always just a call and a few blocks away. They took a gamble on us and as long as we do our best, we can’t disappoint them.”

Grantaire knew his friends were nervous. They all worked hard to get away from living paycheck to paycheck and it was a constant comfort to him that he no longer had to worry about the next meal or overdue bills. That said, their priority had never been placed on profits. They only took in clients that weren’t assholes. No sweatshops or wall street hedge funds, which left them mostly with non-profits and social enterprises. They made enough to get by, but Grantaire suspected that Jehan had been padding the firm’s account with their own money. Lord knew the only thing bigger than Jehan’s heart was their pockets. Having a doting wealthy widow as an aunt greatly helped Jehan with their charity endeavors.

Jehan patted his back reassuringly. “You’ll be great, just keep the pessimism to a minimum for at least a few days and you’ll be golden. Now that’s sorted. Where the hell did you disappear to last night?”

Grantaire started laughing and told them about E, minus most of the juicy details (not all, obviously, the really good parts were not exactly safe for work, but he needed to tell someone). They speculated on E’s mysterious job and Grantaire felt the weight of longing slowly dissipate. He was being ridiculous. Crazy chemistry and one-night were not exactly a reliable foundation for a relationship. He turned back just in time to hear the end of the debate on the mysterious E.

“What if he is a KGB agent, sent to spy on Vermont?” Jehan said.

“Why would he be doing R if he needed to spy?” Feuilly replied, not unreasonably. 

“Hey, I am very doable, thank you very much.”

“Maybe he was a prince from one of those tiny European countries, pretending to be a commoner so he could see the real world?”

“Maybe he was the president’s son!”

“Maybe he was an alien diplomat, sent to learn our ways in order to infiltrate the earth and turn us all into their race?” Jehan tried again.

“And they started with Vermont?”

“I feel like you just don’t think very much of our home state in general, Feuilly,” Jehan excused, wagging their finger in front of Feuilly, who burst into a laugh. 

“Alright, alright, enough now. Seriously, R. Do you have the Enjolras’ resume with you? I think his team wants to get the ads out as soon as possible.”

“Of course I do. He’s always wanted to work for the people. Founded a social justice club turned nonprofit in college with his best friends, not taking any corporate donation, blah blah blah. Honestly, he sounds like the most unobjectionable goody-two-shoes in existence and we all should vote for him just to stop hearing about politics for the next two years,” Grantaire replied, rolling his eyes at his partners. He had to give it to them though, their fussing was the only thing that gave away how nervous they were.

“What did I say about the sarcasm?” Feuilly said.

“And the pessimism!” Jehan added.

“Fine, fine. I shall as unobjectionable as a doorknob. What kind of weird name is Enjolras anyway…”

***

Grantaire got up bright and early on Monday. He shaved, put on his best button down (it was plaid, but that was the best he could do), grabbed the folder, and drove to the address Jehan gave him. Burlington was the biggest city in Vermont, but nothing could truly be classified as big around here. He loved it though, Boston was about as big a city as he could handle and he much preferred moose to people. It took Grantaire less than fifteen minutes to get to the building.

It was a beautiful red brick structure right in the city center, one of the protected buildings no one had been maintaining for a long time. Grantaire loved this part of the city, all history preserved just for the sake of its beauty. The U.S. was still a young country with eyes forever on the horizon. It was the strength of his home, but occasionally, the romantic in him (fueled by his constant proximity to Jehan) wanted to see the nation embrace the past, right the wrongs, and learn from them.

Perhaps this Enjolras guy could give it a try after all.

He buzzed the office’s number and was swiftly let in. The office was on the second floor and Grantaire's breath hitched as soon as he opened the door. He was expecting an empty hall with a few tables and chairs, but the hall was completely transformed. All the beautiful brickwork and window arches were restored to their former glory and the once factory now housed an open-plan office with a few staff hustling and bustling about. Grantaire was about to introduce himself to anyone that would listen when a man came skittering to a halt in front of him. 

“Hey, Grantaire! Great to see you,” Courfeyrac, the campaign manager who hired his firm, greeted. He extended his hand in greetings enthusiastically and gestured vaguely to a handsome bespectacled guy with dark skin that took Grantaire all of one second to estimate that he couldn’t be fucked with. “Combeferre here is our strategist. Cosette and Musichetta are our content manager and speechwriter, so I think you would be working mostly with them.” The two women he pointed at also waved at Grantaire enthusiastically. Cosette was a petite Asian girl with pink hair and at least ten piercings all over her face, while Musichetta looked like she’d just stepped out of a fashion magazine, all bronze and cheekbones. “And Marius is our lawyer. He is mostly here to make sure Enjolras doesn’t get sued for naming corrupt politicians and threatening to jail billionaires.” 

“If only he would listen,” the freckled guy whom Grantaire assumed was Marius sighed forlornly. Courfeyrac patted his back while Combeferre narrowed his eyes at the guy. Courfeyrac was so energetic and genuine that Grantaire could see why he was put in charge of the day-to-day campaign management. He seemed to brighten the whole room and his colleagues all lit up around him. Grantaire smiled and introduced himself again.

“I thought I was early though. Do you guys all usually get here before nine? I can adjust my schedule to fit yours?”

The room broke out into a fit of laughter and Grantaire looked around, unsure of what he did wrong.

Musichetta saved him, though. “We do really flexible hours here, actually. It is just that today is our official countdown to the campaign launch next month and we were all here early for some peace and quiet before the storm really hit, but it turns out we all share one brain cell and got here at the crack of dawn anyway.”

Cosette huffed and Combeferre nodded reassuringly. “Enjolras doesn’t want anyone to overwork, obviously there will be some emergencies and late nights, but in general, we want to be as efficient as possible so that everyone can maintain their personal life. This doesn’t include Enjolras, of course. He’s the first here and the last to leave, but please, don’t ever feel pressured to stay once you finish your work.”

Courfeyrac straightened at that. “Oh, shoot. Enjolras wants to meet you as soon as possible so we can start the launching plan. Please come with me?”

He led Grantaire down the hall until they reached one of the two separate offices on the floor. He knocked quickly and opened the door.

Enjolras was bent over his desk, scrutinizing something and Courfeyrac cleared his throat. 

“Enjolras, this is Grantaire from the PR agency. He is starting today.”

Enjolras looked up, light blue eyes piercing into Grantaire and they both froze.

E.

Enjolras.

_E._

***

Enjolras recovered first. Grantaire? What did that have to do with R? Was that his middle name? His in-case-I-meet-a-serial-killer fake name? Wait. Grant-aire? Oh.

This was neither the time nor the place to be impressed by a ridiculous pun. Courfeyrac was now turning back and forth to look at each of them rapidly, obviously trying to decipher what was going on. Enjolras prayed to the universe that his voice was steady enough to buy him a few seconds of privacy.

“Yes, of course. Welcome, R--Grantaire. Please have a seat. Thanks, Courf, I can take it from here.”

Courfeyrac looked in all the world like he wanted nothing more than to stay, but he couldn’t find a good reason to do so. He shot Enjolras a conspiratorial grin that promised an interrogation later and shut the door on his way out.

“Oh my God,” Grantaire said, covering his face. All the skin Enjolras could see was flaming red and he couldn’t help but find the reaction a tiny bit endearing.

“That sums it up,” Enjolras added.

“Not helping.” Grantaire finally looked up. “I can fix this. Please don’t cancel our contract. I’ll just send one of my partners here in my place. Both of them are awesome, better than me, probably. No, that came out wrong. I am very capable too, we didn’t try to shortchange you. They have full faith in me and--”

“Grantaire, I am not going to fire you. You didn’t do anything wrong. What kind of person would I be if I fired you for what we both did?” Enjolras cut him off. Poor guy was so worried about the contract that Enjolras had to reassure him. It was probably for the best if Grantaire switched places with one of his colleagues, preferably one that hadn’t kissed anyone in this building.

The problem though, was that Enjolras didn’t want to let the man out of his sight again. Any moment he wasn’t spent working yesterday was dedicated to wondering what could have been. R, as Enjolras suspected, looked even better in broad daylight, eyes warm like caramel, and a constellation of freckles dotted his cheeks, complete with a slight blush all over. All his bravado from Saturday night was replaced with a shy smile and nervous speech. Enjolras found the contrast infinitely enticing and the idea of turning R away and exchanging him for someone else seemed like the height of inanity. He could do this. They were both adults, they could be professional.

“I know this isn’t ideal, but I think it is only as awkward as we allow it. We really don’t know each other, so I think we can be professional here?” Enjolras ventured.

Grantaire lit up; his shoulders relaxed visibly and his smile widened. “Yes, I can be professional. All policies and catchphrases. Universal childcare, raising the minimum wage, reasonable work conditions. No rhapsodizing about your hair, or your voice, or your di--”

“No!” Enjolras yelped. It was his turn to cover his face with his hands. He couldn’t rein in the laughter bubbling out of him in time. “Please stop. You are going to send me to an early grave. Strictly professional now, please?”

Grantaire chuckled, all earlier awkwardness forgotten. “Deal. I think I got it all out anyway. Courfeyrac said we are having a meeting in an hour? Let me get settled and I’ll see you then,” he said, getting up from the chair and nodding goodbye to Enjolras.

Enjolras banged his head on his desk for a solid three minutes after Grantaire shut the door.

***

“R, you ignorant slut!”

“Scream louder Jehan, I don’t think they heard you in Canada,” Grantaire winced. He’d excused himself to the bathroom and promptly called Jehan to panic. He’d barely kept it together back in Enjolras’ office and was unsure if he should feel relieved or mortified that Enjolras wanted to keep him on the team.

“You knew you would be working for Enjolras, did you not think to google him beforehand? He’d been running the biggest nonprofit in Burlington for two years and you’ve never seen his face?” Jehan continued.

Grantaire groaned and rubbed his eyes. “Why would I google him when I have you and Feuilly spouting his trivia every hour for the last two weeks. I was busy, Jehan. Now, advice!”

Jehan cackled like a witch, which Grantaire sort of suspected they might be, and wheezed out. “I’m so sorry, R, but this is just too funny. You haven’t touched anyone for months because you were too busy with work and _he_ wanted a last hurrah and now you are both stuck together? Call it what you will, – fate, destiny …”

“Libido.”

“Now you ruined it. I will not be helping you anymore.”

“You weren’t helping to begin with, Prouvaire,” Grantaire replied before hanging up. He sprayed some water on his face to pull himself together and straightened his spine. He could do this. He was here for a job and it didn’t matter that one of the best kissers he had ever met was also working in this office. They would be so busy anyway. Grantaire would be working with Cosette and Musichetta and the candidate himself would not interact with Grantaire much, probably.

He mustered his corporate smile and made his way toward the massive conference table. Most people were still chattering about and he helped Courfeyrac and Marius put some maple donuts and coffee thermos out. Cosette beamed at him. “We don’t want anyone here on an empty stomach. Enjolras and Musichetta are a lot less murderous once they have had breakfast.”

“How dare you, I am murderous with or without food.” Musichetta protested. “It’s only the manner of the murder that changes,”

“I am very reassured,” Grantaire replied, he liked her already

Once Enjolras joined them from his office everyone took their seat. The candidate was an imposing figure at the head of the table but he greeted everyone warmly and started the meeting by telling them how grateful he was that they had chosen to work with him before launching into the game plan.

“We are here because we believe that a better society is not only possible but plausible. The two-party system is a broken one and the more independent candidates there are, the better America is going to be. Now, I want to distribute as much of our policy details as possible. We are looking to make Vermont a more just state, overhaul homeowner associations, creating more homeless shelters, increase our social spending and get more women elected to the city council. We brought in Grantaire to help us with the campaign. I hope you all give him a warm welcome. Any thoughts, Grantaire?”

Grantaire cleared his throat. Enjolras was somehow the same man he’d met at Eponine’s club. He was severe, single-minded, and utterly mesmerizing. Grantaire had to scramble to remember what he was going to say.

“Yes, my team and I have a few options for you and we outlined them here. That said, we feel very strongly about getting your face out there with a catchy slogan first. Of course, you should have your detailed policy on hand and on your website, which I will take a look at later today. With the slogan, we have a few prepared that you all could vote on. It could be a word or a phrase. We have “Ideal”, “Wind of Change”, “Power to the People” and worst comes to worst we can always go with “Reasonably Priced Love and a Hard-Boiled Egg”, Grantaire earned a wink from Combeferre with that. “We’ll build the launch from there. Websites, buttons, signs, and campaign volunteers will all have to be ready by next month when you announce your candidacy. We’ll set up meetings with charities and social enterprises the ABC have worked with as well. I believe you are still the director?” Grantaire finished, but Enjolras didn’t seem convinced.

“I don’t want a flashy slogan, I want the voters to make an informed decision,” Enjolras said, narrowing his eyes. 

It was Grantaire’s turn to be skeptical. “No, you want them to vote for you.”

“Because they understand the importance of electing a governor that would improve the state for everyone, not just the one percent. I don’t want them to vote for me because of some kind of empty slogans that don’t mean a thing,” Enjolras replied, voice slightly irritated.

“You can’t possibly be that naive,” Grantaire said with genuine bewilderment. “If you are lucky, like _really_ lucky, maybe five percent of the population will take the time to google you. More often than not, they would just vote for the previous guy as long as the state isn’t on fire. If the state _is_ on fire though, they will look at the party’s ticket. You are running as an independent and like it or not, you look like one of those guys on Burberry ads, and like it or not, we are going to have to capitalize on that. Otherwise, no one would actually be interested in what you have to say if they don’t even know your name.”

Enjolras was fighting hard not to yell and the whole room could tell, Grantaire included. “You are insulting the people of Vermont with that game plan and I must insist that I am running because I believe in people. I believe that by giving them the tools and knowledge of our policy, they would make a correct decision.”

Grantaire, too, fought for some self-control and tried not to tear all his hair out. This is their very first meeting and Grantaire could still very well get thrown out for his vehement disagreement with the boss. “People think vaccines cause autism and once ate tide pods for fun, Enjolras. Forgive me for my lack of faith. I am not saying we will parade you out in a speedo, all I am saying is that I am here to help you win. That is what you are paying me for, right? You can shout your two-year plan in minute details from a rooftop or a mountain for all I care, but I am here to make sure as many people as possible will be there to listen to you. Can we at least agree on that?”

“I would prefer it if you are here because you believe we are the right choice for the people.”

“Give it time, you could still wear me down.”

With that, the tension broke and a corner of Enjolras’ mouth twitched up in an effort to hide his real smile. Courfeyrac watched the interaction intensely and Grantaire saw him and Combeferre exchange an indiscernible look. 

He really wanted in on that, since he, too, had no idea what had just happened.

Luckily, Musichetta voiced her support for Grantaire’s plan. The speechwriter already had a few notes prepared for any type of event and she quickly offered to trim a few down for short videos and billboards. Cosette also came up with a genius idea of putting a QR code right by every picture of Enjolras, the link would take a voter straight to the policy page of the campaign website.

They’d also agreed on the campaign’s slogan

“Freedom from Needs”

***

Enjolras did what he did best and threw himself head-on into work. Grantaire might not have faith in the people, but Enjolras did. He wouldn’t do them the disservice of pandering to them instead of treating them as rational, intelligent creatures. Over the next few days, his whole team somehow became a well-oiled machine. Courfeyrac shone as the thread that held everyone together. He was endlessly chirpy and passionate, so it was hard for anyone to actually hold a grudge or storm off when fatigue and disagreement threatened them all.

Combeferre worked closely with Musichetta and Grantaire to pare down Enjolras’ main policies into easy, digestible snippets. The outdoor advertising campaigns were finalized, with Enjolras’ face plastered on 25% of the space instead of the Grantaire’s suggested 50. Local t.v. and radio stations began to run ads on Enjolras’ qualifications and he was scheduled for a few interviews as soon as the campaign officially launched. 

As impressed as he was with his team, Enjolras had been avoiding one person in particular. 

Marius would not grant him any moment of peace.

The young lawyer was only hired because some of Enjolras’ closest friends trusted him with their lives. Cosette insisted that Marius graduated at the top of his class and he was, like them all, an idealist at heart. Courfeyrac, however, promptly announced that Marius needed a job and Enjolras needed someone to make sure he wasn’t a liability so would Enjolras just shut up and give him a chance already, they had the campaign to run.

So, Enjolras thought Marius would occasionally check in with him before a big interview instead of his every waking moment.

“Enjolras! Hi, you have a meeting with your main donors for the homeless shelter project later today. Can I just run through the talking points with you?”

Enjolras had not been quick enough on his return from the bathroom and now he had to pay. 

“Yes, I do, Marius, but I don’t see how that has anything to do with the campaign?” Enjolras said.

“Not exactly, but at the last meeting, you said to the donors that the homeowner associations are racist, classist, assholes that should be ignored if destruction was not immediately possible. It made the Burlington Times. I mean it was a throwaway mention, but they can still move against you and call that a threat or defamation, which could get complicated when--”

Enjolras interrupted him. “I was just calling a spade a spade. I don’t see how that could be a problem when their modus operandi is to discriminate against minorities and gentrify neighborhoods.”

“Well, I wouldn’t say they are all bad, I mean, who doesn’t like nice, orderly streets and more cafes. Gentrification can bring in a lot of income for the locals too! When they open shops and businesses they are hiring more locals who are out of jobs anyway, right? Maybe you could use that angle too,” Marius replied brightly.

Enjolras could see Cosette mouthing “be nice” behind Marius, but he had exhausted all his good grace for the day and had to grit his teeth to reply. “If you think for a second that the locals who have put down roots in an area for generations deserve to be priced out and replaced by Starbucks and that trickle-down economics is valid then I am going to have to ask you to get out of this office. Permanently”

By now the whole office was holding their breath, but Enjolras had had enough. It wasn’t like being an idealist was a requirement for this job, but he would need his staff to at least share his values.

“Marius is right though,” Grantaire piped up.

“You can get out too,” Enjolras said with finality. 

“Just bear with me here, I have a point somewhere, I’m sure. You, sir, are a revolutionary. You want basic rights for everyone, but you want a clean slate. You want to be a god, if I may.”

“You may not.”

Grantaire shushed him. “The problem is, the first seven days are over. Prometheus already brought some people fire, pandora’s box has been opened and those first people got to it. Now, it does look like they would have enough to share, but they don’t want to. Why should the people share their privileges? In their heads, they came by it honestly. The laws allowed them to have offshore bank accounts. They have this whole thing figured out and why not justify that with little droplets of the good trickle-down shits? Keep people hungry enough to need to work, but just full enough to not revolt?”

“Because when people have nothing else to eat, they will eat the rich.” 

“Ahh, Rousseau, very good. I like him too, but didn’t he also say poor people don’t have time to think about noble things because they are too busy trying to stay alive?”

Enjolras huffed a breath. His patience had been worn down to nothing and Grantaire was shaping up to be worse than Marius. He needed to know if people in his team are contributing and both Grantaire and Marius had not proven themselves useful whatsoever.

“Where was I?” Grantaire continued, unaffected. “Yes, rich people don’t want to share and poor people are too busy looking for dinner to change the system. Now, you, this privileged rich white guy, coming in to tell them that they are wrong and their wealth isn’t earned? Good luck trying to get elected with that. If you do, however, change your tone a tiny bit. Thank them for their hard work, tell them they could help more by electing you, and show their generosity toward some glamorous causes. Host a benefit, a ballet maybe, then you can gradually add more sympathetic people to the city council and change it from there.”

“Grantaire,” Enjolras said, voice leveled in the way that only happened when he was at the end of his rope. “I need you to understand something. I am not a politician and I have never planned on becoming one. I saw that the system doesn’t work and I know how to fix it so I am going to try. We do this honestly or we don’t do this at all. I am not compromising my principles or beliefs in favor of getting elected. 

“I want to win, but not at all costs. Are we clear?”

Grantaire rubbed his neck, “Crystal. I pray you are right, though, Enjolras.”

Enjolras felt Grantaire’s eyes on his back the whole time he walked back into his office.

***

To Grantaire’s eternal surprise. The stern talking to seemed to work on him. Enjolras was the most direct man Grantaire had ever met, but being earnest did not mean he was boring. Enjolras had his eyes on the horizon, but he poured his heart into everyone and everything around him. He remembered Cosette’s weekly lunch with her father and asked after the old man. He furnished the office’s break room with fair trade coffee, organic vitamin supplements, and a terrifying quantity of Ben and Jerry’s. He made sure everyone got enough sleep each night and Grantaire just about melted when Enjolras bought him a burrito that one time he forgot his lunch.

Despite the agreement to be professional, neither of them could stop toeing that line. They kept brushing against one another in the doorway. They lingered just a bit longer in the kitchen when no one else was around. Their fingers grazed when they passed pens or papers and often when Grantaire looked up from his desk, Enjolras was already looking at him.

They had been working late last night preparing for the launch when Enjolras put a coffee cup down next to him before asking why he was still there.

“I invited a lot of press and I am trying to make sure no one is sending a QAnon sympathizer to cover you,” Grantaire said, pointing to the screen where he had a few articles written by the journalists on the list opened. 

“Most of them look acceptable, but this one ran an op-ed on the benefits of jade eggs so I am going to try to get someone else tomorrow.”

Enjolras moved closer, crowding behind Grantaire’s chair to look at the computer screen. “What in God’s name is a jade egg? Ohhhh,” he exhaled, clearly trying not to laugh.

“Yup, now you see why I need to replace her.”

“Wait, hold on, there’s a ruby one too! What’s the difference? Let me read that,” Enjolras swatted Grantaire’s hand away, moving closer to the monitor. This had the added advantage of trapping Grantaire right in his arms and Enjolras nuzzled even closer, breathing hot air on his cheek.

Grantaire tilted his chin back to feel more of Enjolras’ skin on his face when Enjolras clicked on another article and a full tutorial of how to use a jade egg popped up.

“No. Nope. Hell no, that is way too much information and I am going to weep for humanity now,” Grantaire said, jumping up from the chair as Enjolras tried to recover from the graphic demonstration. They both started laughing maniacally and it was unanimously decided that they just really needed a good night’s sleep. 

In short, to know Enjolras was to fall for him.

One night stands or love at first sight usually worked because they were done deals. You never knew what the other person was truly like so you were free to imagine and put them on an unreachable pedestal to your heart’s content. Enjolras was attractive, yes, but he was much more than his looks. Faith soared in him. When he spoke of a better future for everyone, he seemed to have become a beacon, a vassal of liberty herself. Enjolras became secondary to his ideals, it was impossible to look at someone with such a strong conviction and not be a little bit more hopeful about the future. If Enjolras could look at the world and see a way out, perhaps Grantaire owed it to him to try. 

Watching him now, out on the podium announcing his candidacy, promising the people that better days are coming, and fully intending to do so, Grantaire forgot how to breathe. 

“I resent the word governor,” Enjolras began. “No one has a right to govern you. You know what is best for you and I am asking you to allow me to be a part of your support structure. I want to contribute to your freedom from need. It is a failure that you are forced to spend the majority of your life trying to meet your basic needs instead of self-fulfillment. You should be able to write terrible poems for fun, finger paint, and feed your neighbors. Instead, the system makes sure that you have just enough to get by, but not enough to _live_.” His eyes found Grantaire and he gave him a small, private smile. “I can’t promise you a revolution, but I can promise you I will try to make it better, inch by inch. I will fight tooth and nail for you and I will never stop trying. Please give me a chance to prove this to you.”

Enjolras ended his speech to roaring applause. They agreed to announce the event in front of the Society of the ABC to remind people that Enjolras had already done all he could as a private citizen and he would be able to do much more as a governor. All the billboards and local ads had been rolled out and they even had a few college students applying for the chance to volunteer for the campaign, but that could probably be because Enjolras had refused to take unpaid interns and insisted on paying everyone a living wage. 

They ended up in Eponine’s club, which turned into a cafe during the day. She closed the place for the evening just for the team and everyone was riding high on the positive reaction from the crowd. Jehan and Feuilly of course were there as a part of the PRide team. They both get along with the campaign people like a house on fire and Enjolras looked at Feuilly like he hung the moon. Grantaire was not at all uncomfortable with that, why would anyone even ask? 

Jehan, who was a confirmed mind reader and a local Wiccan Witch (really, there were meetups and everything), materialized to his right, and Eponine, the certified scariest person Grantaire had ever met, trapped him on the left.

“Is this an intervention?” he asked tentatively, racking his brain to see what he did wrong. Did Jehan somehow find out he slipped their overweight cat fancy cat treats? Did Grantaire forget to pick Gavroche up from Taekwondo?

Jehan shot him an unimpressed look. “You, my friend, have it bad for a blondie in a three-piece suit.”

Grantaire’s left eye twitch uncontrollably, damn it. “No, I don’t. We are strictly professional and he spent half his day telling me to get some faith as if I could buy that at a CVS. I’m good. We are better off as colleagues. Seriously, We could not be more different. The other day, he spent an hour lecturing me and Musichetta for venmoing each other coffee money. Apparently, we were unnecessarily increasing our carbon footprint by our cavalier usage of internet transactions! As if that would make a difference against a coal mine in Australia. Don’t get me wrong, I do admire his principles and he looks like a movie star and I, maybe, possibly, have doodled his face on a bunch of napkins, but it was from a purely artistic interest. Did you know that the idea of symmetry as beauty and perfection can be dated back all the way to Plato? His ideal beauty includes exactness, so that’s like, if your face looks exactly the same folded on your nose, you are perfection. Therefore, Apollo over there is a fascinating subject to study.”

Jehan hummed thoughtfully. “But one can argue that perfection and completion don’t come from one thing, no? After all, Aristophanes said we could be a half of a whole, cursed to wander the earth looking for our other half. Some people are just two sides of the same coin and if you find your opposite, maybe it is a good thing? Aren’t we all drawn to what we lack?”

Grantaire was about to defend the integrity of all happily single people everywhere when Eponine cut in. 

“That is enough pretentiousness for the day, nerds. Grantaire, you are a physical manifestation of a simp for goldilocks. Jehan, stop encouraging his rambling. And could one of you please tell me what the deal is with Riz Ahmed next to your wet dream?”

“Combeferre?” Jehan and Grantaire said in unison. “Do we even know if he likes women?” Grantaire asked.

“I guess you are going to find out for me,” Eponine said, depositing a pitcher of the peach iced tea Enjolras had been drinking at an alarming rate into Grantaire’s arms. Now, Grantaire had no choice but to insert himself in the conversation between Enjolras, Combeferre, and Feuilly, who shot his arm out and pulled Grantaire in by his shoulders out of habit. His friends have always been tactile. Grantaire relaxed by instinct and sat down with them.

“So, now that you guys have formally met, are you replacing me with Feuilly?”

Enjolras straightened up at that, “Why would we? You have been brilliant. Feuilly, the other day Grantaire got me a spot in the town hall right before the debate on the new industrial estate construction. He’s making so many people listen to me whether they like it or not.”

“Literally, my job, Enjolras. I have a feeling you would have no problem drawing a crowd anyway. With or without me.”

Enjolras reached out to grip his hand and Grantaire nearly had a heart attack. “No, don’t do that. You have been working as hard as anyone here, just take credit when it is due.”

Grantaire tried hard not to blush. God damn it, Jehan.

***

Combeferre pretended to cough into his sleeves and Enjolras narrowed his eyes at him suspiciously. Grantaire and Feuilly were deep in the conversation about their design for the new campaign posters and signs, so Enjolras took the opportunity to interrogate Combeferre under his breath.

“Nothing, I just think it’s nice of you to be so worried about Grantaire’s feelings, even when he clearly didn’t,” Combeferre said, not bothering to hide his smug grin. 

Enjolras started to reply when Feuilly reached over to brush a stray curl from Grantaire’s face and he lost his train of thought.

“Well, Feuilly, I can’t thank PRide enough for all that you guys did. I think we will all get back to the office now. Grantaire, would you like to come with us? I mean, don’t feel pressured to, I know they are your friends as well as colleagues, so you could take your time and--” 

“Of course I’ll come back with you. I’m all yours for the next two months, remember?” Grantaire said while stuffing his satchels with papers and pens he had scattered around for inspiration earlier.

Combeferre whistled loudly at that, but Enjolras was distracted again because Grantaire reached over and touched his elbow. “I have a reusable cup we can take the iced tea in, so you can have some more at work.”

Enjolras laughed, feeling his shoulders relaxed by Grantaire’s consideration. “At this rate, I’ll be awake until three a.m. tonight, seriously, what did she put in the tea? Is it witchcraft?”

“A boatload of sugar, actually. And staying up ‘til three? As opposed to the usual two forty-five? Man, you are slagging.”

Enjolras bumped his shoulder to Grantaire and pretended that their hands didn’t brush. This was still professional, right? 

“Don’t even start, I left the office at midnight last night and you were still on the phone and your drawing tablet. You are just as bad as us.”

“Shhh, keep that down, I have a reputation to protect,” Grantaire replied with a wink.

It was completely normal to feel all warm and fuzzy at that, right?

***

The next few days went by in a blur. Enjolras was never in the same place for more than a few minutes and Grantaire missed seeing him more than he’d care to admit. They were heading to their very first debate. Enjolras was one of two independent candidates and this was the first time all of them would share a stage.

The big party candidates were painfully smug about their place on the ticket. They came prepared with bigger teams and strategists armed with coffee cups and ipads. The debate started out civil enough, but Enjolras burned bright with his sincerity and the crowd drank up his every move. Even Mabeuf, the other independent candidate who ran on an environmentally-friendly agenda started to back Enjolras up on more than a few points on which they both agreed.

Sensing potential disasters and eager to preserve the status quo, the other two on the stage banded together to berate Enjolras on his naivety. Babet, the incumbent, running on an ultra-conservative platform, got personal.

“It was all well and good for Mr. Enjolras to tell us what is wrong with Vermont. I can’t help but wonder if there are so many things wrong with this state, why did he choose to stay here? We are proud, hard-working people and we will not let a child who looks barely old enough to drive come and tell us we were a failure. This great state of Vermont has been getting by just fine since before you were born, son. The only weakness I see around here is a rich kid who doesn’t know how the real world works trying to play pretend by insulting all of us here.” He was greeted with huge cheers and Grantaire gritted his teeth while he wrote down notes for the next debate. Enjolras had yet to draw a crowd this size. Most people who came to see him seemed to stay, but they needed people who had no interest in seeing him to give him a chance too. 

Enjolras calmly took the mics back and replied, “Did you have any point there or did you just want to change the subject, since you couldn’t give us your concrete stance on gender-neutral bathrooms, renter protection, rehabilitation programs for non-violent offenders, and small business loans?”

Babet smirked. “Here we are again. Young people these days do not understand the values of hard work. You are always waiting for someone to do something for you. Bathrooms? Loans? Housing? These handout generations should be learning things the hard way. When you make bad choices, you have to live with the consequences. Stop asking for help all the time and just help yourself first.” The crowd applauded him again and Grantaire hated himself for the wave of doubts that came crashing through him. If people agreed with this cruel and elitist view of the world, what chance do any of them have? Forcing himself to focus, he turned back to Enjolras just before he stepped off the podium to stand in front of the stage completely.

“I think you have made your position clear, governor,” the last word was dripped with sarcasm. “You see people struggling on the street because the system was rigged against them and you choose to turn a blind eye. Instead of asking why a fourteen-year-old would try to steal a chocolate bar, you asked what you could do to hurt them. Instead of empowering people to feel safe and supported in your state, you chose to divide them. You have made your choice and I hope one day you will realize how wrong you are, but for today, I hope everyone thinks carefully about what the governor has just said and ask yourself this, do you want to live in the world where your sons, daughters, nieces, nephews are told that their needs are privileges, not rights? Or do you want to live in one where they are given every opportunity to succeed? I have nothing more to say to Mr. Babet. I believe you have done enough damage during the last two years.”

The debate dissolved quickly after that, but Grantaire still wasn’t sure if he should count it a success just yet. Enjolras stood his ground and did as well as could be expected for his first debate. He didn’t even try to strangle Babet once, which counted to everyone as a major accomplishment. There was nothing they could do right now anyway. They were regrouping at the office first thing tomorrow morning.

Grantaire was saying his goodbyes when he noticed that Enjolras was absent from the main hall. He went backstage to check on the man when he spotted the light peeking through Enjolras’ dressing room.

“Hey,” Grantaire said, knocking on the door lightly.

Enjolras was by himself with this head buried in his hands. His shoulders tensed and Grantaire reached out by instinct to disentangle him.

“Hey, what’s wrong? You did really well there, Enjolras. I don’t think there was anything more you could have done,” Grantaire said, withdrawing his hands from Enjolras’ wrists.

Enjolras did him the courtesy of looking up and straightening his spine. “I guess so, but I just didn’t prepare for how exhausting dealing with bigots would be. I had to be civil to him, R. I can’t tell him and the world that he was a greedy spineless piece of shit and leave it at that. I have never been good at hiding my emotions and I dread the next debate already.”

Grantaire took a long look at Enjolras. It wasn’t that his conviction was shaken, it was the physical exhaustion taking over. Crisis of faith was not something Grantaire could help, but a sleep-deprived, mentally exhausted Enjolras? This he could deal with.

“I’m going to do something slightly less professional, ok?” Grantaire said and Enjolras perked up slightly.

“Not that unprofessional, get your mind out of the gutter. I am going to hug you and then I will drop you off at your house to make sure you are getting twelve hours of sleep tonight. Cool? Cool.” Before Enjolras could protest, Grantaire kneeled down in front of him and wrapped his arms around Enjolras’ shoulders, letting the other burrow into his neck.

“There will be so many days like this,” Grantaire said and Enjolras let out an annoyed huff. “But there will be days where the whole hall is packed with people who believe in you. There will be days where Babet is a distant memory. We are doing this so we can get to those days quicker. Don’t forget that.”

Enjolras smiled into his neck. “Can that day be tomorrow? Can we skip all the interviews?”

This cuddly, sleepy Enjolras was a new one and Grantaire cataloged their interactions to be dissected further in the privacy of his own home later. The usually formidable Enjolras grumbling into his neck like a tired toddler made something warm spread in his chest. It felt special, like a secret side of Enjolras that no one else got to see.

“Alright you big baby, let’s get you out of here,” Grantaire said, trying to get up.

Enjolras only tightened his hold. “Can we stay like this for a bit longer? Five more minutes?”

Grantaire’s knees hurt from kneeling and Enjolras couldn’t have been comfortable hunching down to him. His hair was all over Enjolras’ face and Grantaire could feel the other man’s breath tickling his neck.

And he wouldn’t give those five minutes up for the world.

***

Enjolras’ opponent had no qualms about playing dirty, it seemed. As immediate as the day after the debate. Tabloid headlines were plastered with _Are We Ready for a Millenial Governor?_ , _Rich Boy Wants to Play Politician_ and a variety of _Is Enjolras Getting by on His Good Looks?_ Grantaire was desperately doing all he could to find unbiased news outlets willing to let the clickbait go. He’d secured Enjolras a few interviews, but he knew he needed to do more.

Enjolras tried his best to keep his mood in check, but he was obviously upset by the turn of events. The staff meeting was tenser than usual and everyone was on their best behavior.

“This is Vermont, for heaven’s sake. I thought these underhanded dirty tricks are only used in D.C.; we are better than this,” he said, shaking his head. “R, I am seriously doubting our tactics so far. I told you I didn’t want my face plastered everywhere and we should be focusing more on policies. We’ve tried your way now, can we do more of mine?” 

Grantaire nodded, the customer is always right after all. He didn’t necessarily think their strategy was wrong, but these things were never fully predictable, but before he could reply, Courfeyrac cut in, “First of all, we are going to talk about this R business, but I recognize that we have a more immediate task at hands. Now that we got your name and face out, we are moving toward getting your policy to the people anyway. Enjolras, I know you are not happy with the current situation, but people know you now. Nothing went wrong, all the headlines they’ve used were not real criticisms. They all aimed to get a rise out of you and I think we should focus on getting you more interviews, live ones, if possible, so people can see you really know what you are talking about. We also need to work on making you seem more approachable, according to the poll, some people think you are out of touch, so we need some fun campaign activities.”

Grantaire raised both hands. “Pick me! Pick me! I have an idea.” 

“God help us all,” Enjolras replied.

And this was how they all ended up in Ben and Jerry’s headquarters, announcing his plan for a corporate to small business mentorship program and vocational school curriculum.

The cameras were everywhere and Enjolras begrudgingly admitted that he had quite a good time learning how they make ice cream. He had long since made peace with being a sugar and caffeine addict and life is short, so, ice cream. 

It also didn’t hurt that Ben and Jerry’s was a legendary local institution with a liberal and socially-conscious company policy. They had donated to the ABC before and they were more than happy to support several programs Enjolras proposed. Their endorsement could mean a world of difference with the campaign. 

They were getting ready to leave when Grantaire caught his eye. He tilted his head and motioned for Enjolras to follow. So what choice did he have? 

Grantaire led them through the parking lot to a green patch of grass and Enjolras let out a laugh.

“Of course, the flavor graveyard. How did I forget about this?” Enjolras looked around to the little graves depicting discontinued ice-cream flavors. Each of them had little quirky descriptions engraved on the headstone. 

“Schweddy Balls? A wonder that one didn’t last,” Enjolras said as they looped their way around the path.

“I know you meant that statement to be sarcastic, but truer words have never been spoken,” Grantaire said before their hands brushed against one another again. Neither pulled back. “I just thought you might need a few moments of peace and quiet to recuperate a bit. It was pretty intense back there.”

Enjolras could only stare at him. Grantaire’s most infuriating trait was his swagger, but here, after taking the time to take care of Enjolras, Grantaire was nothing but timid.

Enjolras just couldn’t have that.

“Thank you for this,” he said, squeezing Grantaire’s hand. “I do try to soldier through, but I do need some recovery time. Thank you for noticing.”

Grantaire squeezed his hand back and dragged him over a headstone to make Enjolras read the plaque. 

“Crème Brûlée? This one was my favorite! I didn’t even know they discontinued it. I just thought it was really popular so I can never find it.”

“They did, until now,” Grantaire said while presenting him with a pint of ice cream labeled Crème Brûlée. “Now, don’t get too excited, I just asked them to recreate it by mixing salted caramel with some vanilla but it should taste pretty close so--”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” Enjolras said, grabbing Grantaire by his collars and pulled him in for a kiss. He poured all his longing, his frustration of always being in the man’s vicinity, but not getting to touch him the way he’d wanted for weeks into it. He had waited for months, years if he was being honest. Without knowing, he had been waiting for someone exactly like Grantaire. Someone so contradictory it was exhilarating getting to know him. Someone who took care not to take anything too seriously, but somehow still standing by Enjolras, making sure he was alright.

Grantaire froze for a few seconds and Enjolras thought he had miscalculated. Maybe Grantaire was just that generous to everyone and Enjolras would need to start apologizing immediately. But then, Grantaire melted into him and parted his lips imperceptibly. He pulled Enjolras closer and wind his arms around his shoulders, much like the same thing he did during their first kiss.

Enjolras pressed for the advantage. He darted the tip of his tongue out to explore Grantaire’s and felt an unbelievable sense of satisfaction when the man moaned into his mouth. His hands were all over Grantaire’s back and he snaked them under his suit sweater, trying to seal their body heat together.

To his extreme disappointment, Grantaire pulled back.

“What about being professional? Keeping our distance?” he asked with a smirk.

“That was dumb, never listen to me.”

Grantaire giggled, “Oh boy, you are so going to regret that.”

Enjolras quietened him with a kiss once more.

***

As it turned out, kissing Grantaire was an extremely pleasant and addictive activity. Enjolras wanted to tell the team about their relationship development immediately, but Grantaire insisted that they didn’t change their interaction at work.

“I can’t be a homewrecker, Enjolras.”

“What on earth are you talking about? You know I’m single.”

“You and Vermont. I can’t be the other woman that comes between you and your one true love.”

“You are not even a woman.”

Grantaire said it would keep them focused and the office’ gossip to a minimum. 

Enjolras begged to differ.

If he didn’t have to think about hiding his affection, he wouldn’t have to devote so much of his brain function to worry about accidentally touching Grantaire. He also wouldn’t be looking for a reason to go into the kitchen when Grantaire was making coffee there alone in order to pin him against the fridge and kiss him silly.

(Not that Enjolras would ever.)

(He might have, just a little.)

Today, though, they were both working late. Enjolras was so lost in his meeting with Combeferre and Courfeyrac about the voter registration drive that they were running for the next few days. Enjolras didn't realize it was well after eight p.m. when they finally had all the event’s details worked out.

“I’m so sorry, guys, I didn’t mean to keep you this long,” Enjolras said, rubbing his eyes. 

“It’s fine, we are at crunch time anyway,” Courfeyrac said. “Plus, I already told Cosette and Marius to start cooking without me, I would just get to have effortless dinner and sex, it’s a win-win.”

Combeferre and Enjolras groaned. Courfeyrac knew they didn’t need to know that. Enjolras and Combeferre _knew_ complaining would only bring about more sordid details, but they couldn’t stop their instinct.

“Speaking of sex,” Courfeyrac began.

“Oh here we go,” Combeferre sighed, taking his glasses off to clean them.

“Enjolras, my dear, how are you holding up? It’s been two months since you hooked up with that random guy at the club. Are you sexually frustrated? Feeling light-headed? Touch-starved? Do you need some help from our PR team, mayhaps?”

“Mayhaps wasn’t acceptable the first time you used it.”

“And the seventy times after that,” Combeferre contributed.

“Uh-oh, you are changing the subject. We need to do something about your uncontrollable sexual tension, Enjolras. I can’t stand watching you two pine over each other anymore. You are making everyone way too horny for workdays.”

“I’m fine, actually,” Combeferre, again came to the rescue.

Enjolras was dying to tell his best friends about Grantaire, but he had to settle with getting rid of them for now.

“If you are so sick of the tension in the office, just go home, Courf. You, too, Combeferre, you are working too much,” he said while shooing them out of his office.

“You are not denying it!” Courfeyrac got the last words in before he walked out of the office’s door.

Enjolras chuckled, walking back into his office to get ready to leave when Grantaire attacked him.

“God, I thought you guys would pull an all-nighter,” he said, pulling Enjolras in by his loosened tie. He went willingly, eager to take as much as Grantaire was willing to give. 

They kissed greedily, desperate for touch after a whole day of barely any skin contact. Enjolras pressed his hands onto the burning skin under the soft material of Grantaire’s sweater. His lips roamed all over Grantaire’s face and moved to a spot right under his ear that was fast becoming his favorite way to reduce Grantaire to a breathy, gasping mess. 

Grantaire busied his hands with getting rid of Enjolras’ tie and unbuttoning his shirt before he mumbled, “Close the blinds.”

Enjolras pulled back. They usually continued their kisses at one of their apartments. The office had been restricted to the PG13 activities and Grantaire nearly exploded when Enjolras grabbed his ass lightly in the kitchen last week.

“Are you sure? You said no fooling around at work,” he had to ask.

“Come on, Enjolras, I hardly got to see you all day,” Grantaire said, pressing his leg between Enjolras’ to make a point.

Enjolras jumped at the opportunity, he closed all the blinds in his office and crossed the room in three strides to push Grantaire down on his desk.

“Are you going to be good and scream my name tonight?” Enjolras whispered in between nipping his earlope and undoing Grantaire’s clothes. He couldn’t get rid of them fast enough. If it were up to him, Grantaire would be wearing a lot less at work. 

Grantaire whined, helping Enjolras out of his own restraint. They pushed and pulled and clung to each other with their hands and lips. Now that they were both sufficiently naked, Grantaire sat back up on the desk and jumped down to switch their places around.

“Let me, please, Enjolras?” He kneeled down and batted his eyes innocently, just shy of begging.

“Let you do what? I’m sure I don’t need to let you do anything.”

Grantaire ran his hands up and down Enjolras’ calves, pleading silently. “Please let me suck you off. You are so hard for me and I need your thick cock in my mouth, please, Enjolras?”

Enjolras had been painfully turned on since Grantaire jumped him earlier and he couldn’t control himself any longer. He grabbed a fistful of Grantaire’s hair and dragged his mouth to him, making Grantaire’s breath hitch. But Grantaire had always recovered quickly, he licked and sucked with abandon, pressing his tongue onto Enjolras’ slit before wrapping his hand around the base.

“God, R, your _mouth_. I could do this forever.”

Grantaire hummed in approval, but Enjolras was too close and that just wouldn’t do. He loved another part of Grantaire too much to stop here and who knew when they would be alone in the office again? He pulled Grantaire up and shoved him back onto the desk, pressing his chest down onto the scattered papers, and ran his cock down on his spine, beating him gently

“Do you want it? Did you come here to get fucked on this desk?”

Grantaire whined, pressing his ass closer to Enjolras while trying to get some friction from the smooth desk. “I do, I do so much Enjolras, please fuck me. Make me come all over it.”

Enjolras opened the desk’s top drawer for a bottle of lube he had hidden there in an act of blind optimism that this very event might happen. He coated his fingers generously and circled his index around Grantaire’s rim, spreading the gel.

“I don’t think so. I don’t think you are desperate enough yet.” He pushed the first finger in and Grantaire moaned satisfyingly. 

“I think you just want to come, with or without me,” he said into Grantaire’s ass, biting the cheek gently and pushing another finger in. Grantaire writhed and groaned on the desk like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to get away or make Enjolras fuck him faster. Seeing the correct reaction, Enjolras pushed another finger in and pressed into a spot that made Grantaire outright humped the surface.

“Enjolras, fill me up. I need you now I am going to die I can’t wai--”

soulful cow eyes

Enjolras twisted Grantaire’s face up for a filthy kiss, wetter than any other kisses combined, and removing his fingers before moving back behind Grantaire to slick himself up with the lube.

He pushed into Grantaire as slowly as he could, dragging his cock inch by inch and making Grantaire wail and scream for him. Grantaire was close to sobbing, begging Enjolras to give him what he needed and go harder. 

“Oh yes. Oh fuck, fuck, fuck. Enjolras!” Grantaire howled into the quiet of the room and Enjolras nearly lost it with all the lovely noises coming out of his mouth. Fucking Grantaire was still a novelty and Enjolras couldn’t get enough of the tight heat he got to plunge into.

“Christ, R, you feel so good. How are you so fucking tight for me every time?” Enjolras just had to go faster, harder, sending papers and pens flying from the desk, with Grantaire moaning incoherently all over them. Enjolras licked the sweat collecting on his lover’s neck and felt delirious when Grantaire clenched even tighter around him.

As much as he hated it, he knew he was close, so he pulled back, pressing his palm on Grantaire’s lower back to trap him even more firmly to the desk. Here, he had a full view of Grantaire quivering beneath him, his cock going in and out where he was received so wholeheartedly. He let himself fuck into Grantaire as hard as he could a couple more times before pulling Grantaire up by the waist to wrap his fingers around his aching need.

“Do you want to come, baby? Do you want me to make you come on my cock?”

Grantaire arched into his touch and whined even louder. He begged with all kinds of affirmatives so willing to let Enjolras decide when and how he could come. Enjolras couldn’t stand it anymore, he pumped his hand up and down, wanting to see Grantaire unravel before him.

“Ahh, fuck, Enjolras, Enjolras,” Grantaire came with half a sob and nearly collapsed onto the desk, the sight alone pushed Enjolras over the edge and he came deep into Grantaire, all while whispering to his ear how perfect he was.

When their breathing got more even, Enjolras reluctantly pulled out and used the paper napkins on his desk to clean them both up, pressing kisses to every spot he ran his hands over. He was attending to Grantaire’s inner thighs when he couldn’t resist using his tongue to clean him up instead. He looked up and saw Grantaire watching him, eyes soft and fond.

“You are making it really hard to stay casual, you know,” Grantaire said.

Enjolras placed a final kiss on Grantaire’s hipbone before standing up. “I have never done anything casual in my entire life. I thought you knew.”

Grantaire pulled him in for a soft kiss on the lips.

“I am beginning to believe it.”

***

They were at the last hurdle of the campaign. It was two weeks before the election and the number was promising. Mabeuf had withdrawn from the race and rallied his supporters around Enjolras. The other two candidates were a good way behind him and victory seemed like a real, tangible result.

Grantaire was distributing social media engagement statistics around and pointing out key policies that seemed to resonate with voters to the meeting when he handed a few graphs to Enjolras.

“Thanks, babe,” Enjolras replied absently, without looking up from his tablet.

The room fell deadly silent.

“Babe? BABE?” Courfeyrac practically yelled, jumping up from his chair and slamming his fists on the conference table. Cosette giggled while Marius wordlessly got out his wallet and handed Musichetta twenty dollars.

“Oh God,” Grantaire said, hiding his face behind his papers like a kid trying to avoid bad news. 

Cosette rubbed his back soothingly. “I mean, it was only a matter of time before one of you cracked. I walked in on you two eating each other’s faces in the kitchen like three weeks ago.”

“What?!” both Marius and Courfeyrac yelped in unison. “You knew for three weeks and you didn’t tell us?” said Courfeyrac. 

“You let me bet ‘Chetta twenty bucks that they aren’t together!” demanded Marius.

“Hey, it was not my story to tell,” Cosette said, completely unfazed. “This is much better though, now I don’t have to pretend to believe that you two accidentally ran into each other at the farmers wearing the exact same tragic hair and matching hickeys.”

Grantaire whined into his hands. “Are you stalking us?”

Cosette huffed. “You guys aren’t exactly subtle. I’m sure Combeferre figured it out weeks ago too.”

“I did. Enjolras only hums musicals when he’s had sex.”

“Combeferre you traitor. I don’t do that,” Enjolras protested, throwing a pen at Combeferre. The effect was slightly diminished because he couldn’t stop smiling. The term of endearment might have been a slip-up, but Enjolras was just so glad to have it out in the open that he could easily tolerate a lot more aggressive teasing. He met Granataire’s eyes and from the look of him, Grantaire was content to blush and accept the outcome too.

“No. Guys, guys. You need to see this,” Musichetta said, effectively silencing everyone in the room. Her lips were trembling with barely controlled anger and she turned her laptop screen around to show them a local newspaper headline.

_Public Menace? Enjolras Plays Fast and Loose with Mysterious Man_

Under the gaudy headline was a grainy picture of Enjolras kissing Grantaire behind Eponine’s club. The picture was obviously taken from afar, but Enjolras’ profile was clear. Thankfully, Grantaire’s face was hidden by the shadow.

“Fucking bastards. How did they get this picture?” Courfeyrac snarled, grabbing the laptop from Musichetta. Grantaire was already on his phone to the rest of PRide’s team, looking for a way to salvage Enjolras’ reputation.

“There might be something we can do legally. Cease and desist I think, but it won’t do much good now that the picture is already out,” Marius said, but he started drafting the letter as soon as he spoke. 

Grantaire hung up the phone. “I think the best way to handle this is to admit that you kissed someone, as adults occasionally do. Tell them you don’t make a habit of it, but it was an incredibly low blow to put a creep shot of you out like that.”

“I kissed you,” Enjolras replied, willing his voice to stay calm. “I don’t want to dismiss that like it didn’t mean anything. That was our first kiss, Grantaire.”

“You can’t just go around announcing two weeks before election day that you met your boyfriend in a club. Vermont is pretty liberal and the attack against your personal life has been mild, but they are going to use this against you. You are playing into the stereotypical gay men are promiscuous rhetoric,” Grantaire said, frustrated with the situation and Enjolras’ stubbornness. “I don’t look good on paper, Enjolras. I have tattoos. I technically own a share in Eponine’s club, and I made a lot of vulgar art before starting PRide. I have drunken disorderly arrest records. They will chew you out if they find out you are with me, trust me on this.”

Combeferre stood up. “I think we should give them a few minutes.” Everyone else started shuffling along too, but Enjolras stopped them.

“No, everyone, stay. I am not ashamed of you, Grantaire. There is _nothing_ wrong with you. I don’t care about any of your past. I have arrest records too! You are not a monster. Christ, look at what other politicians have done and they still keep getting reelected. This is nothing. It is absolutely nonsensical to get all worked up about this. We’ll put out a statement that it was a private matter, condemn them for running it, and just focus on policy. It worked out well for us so far.”

“But--” Grantaire tried to argue.

“No,” Enjolras cut him off. “Last I checked I am the one running for this election and this is the last we’ll talk about it. This is nothing.”

It wasn’t nothing. The opponents had a field day with Enjolras’ reputation. His college boyfriend was tracked down and interviewed. The headlines got progressively more salacious and Babet gleefully insinuated over and over again that Enjolras kissing someone in public was a grave moral failing.

Grantaire refused to be seen with him after a few days. All the staff went all in on damage control, fending off gossip columns one after another. Grantaire, in particular, was being paid to make Enjolras look good and the more he threw himself into scoring serious interviews and op-ed for Enjolras, the less Enjolras saw of him.

“Grantaire,” he said. It was nearly midnight, everyone else had left and even Enjolras himself would have left a long time ago if it weren’t for Grantaire’s furious typing on his phone and laptop.

“Hey there,” Grantaire replied, looking up. “Why don’t you go ahead, get some sleep. I just need to do a few more things.”

Enjolras rested his hands on Grantaire’s shoulders, massaging him lightly. “It’s midnight, babe. There is nothing more to be done now, let’s go home.”

Grantaire tensed beneath his fingertips. “Enjolras, look, I think we need to spend some time apart. The election is next week and we can’t give them more ammunition. This is too important.”

Enjolras froze on the spot. “Are you breaking up with me?”

“Yes, no, I don’t know,” Grantaire said, getting up and pacing the floor. “I guess for now, yes. We can try again a month, a year from now if you still want me. I can’t be the reason you don’t get the job you deserve, Enjolras. You can do so much good without me.”

“That is bullshit and you know it!” Enjolras snapped. “I can do the same with you next to me. What the hell, R? One hurdle and you are ready to give up on us?”

“I am giving up on us because I can’t give up on you!” Grantaire bellowed, tears filling his eyes. “I can’t, Enjolras. You are my hope in this world and I want to see you make it. I love you too much to see you lose and resent me for this.”

“And you think you are the only one? I love you too, Grantaire. I’ve known I could love you since the day we met and I was right. I love you as much as I could love anything. Can you just stop, please? Don’t do this. This is not your call to make,” Enjolras said, stepping closer, trying to wrap Grantaire in his arms again. 

Grantaire stepped away. “No, the campaign is your call, but this? This is my call too. I’m sorry, Enjolras, I quit.”

With that, he walked out of the door without a backward glance, leaving Enjolras rooted to the spot like a discarded flower, meaningless and expendable.

***

It had to be done, Grantaire told himself as his shell broke and he shook with sobs. Enjolras was too good, too righteous to admit that what they had would only hold him back. His poll numbers were a testament enough, but Grantaire could still do something about that. PRide had been running for three years and Grantaire was good with reading people and twisting words to meet his needs. He couldn’t do it alone though, so he drove to Jehan’s instead of his own apartment.

Jehan had mastered Eponine’s unimpressed look, it seemed.

“I am not saying it wouldn’t work, R, I am just saying it is a stupid-ass plan.”

“It is not! Society loves nothing more than an honest man wronged by a jezebel, so, just, if we can pull together something quickly, it will take the heat off him. It could be enough to get him back on top.”

Jehan sighed. “You must really love him.”

Grantaire didn’t meet their eyes. “More than anything. Please? Would you help?”

***

The air in the headquarters was suffocating. Everyone only needed to take one look at Grantaire’s empty desk and Enjolras’ tense expression to make an educated guess. Enjolras headed into his office and began his workday. If Grantaire thought they had to sacrifice their relationship for Enjolras’ election, then the least he could do was make sure he got voted in.

While waiting on his computer to boost, Enjolras absently scrolled his Twitter feeds and shot up from his seat.

“Did you all know about this?” he said, storming into space.

Combeferre put a comforting hand on his shoulder. “He told us not to tell you. He knew you wouldn’t like it, Enjolras. I know it is not ideal, but you have to admit it will turn the focus back on your policy instead of your personal life.”

“Not ideal? Are you serious? Did you even see what they are saying about him? Here. _’ Enjolras’ Mysterious Hookup Tells All’_ _’Enjolras Heartbroken by Mysterious Man’_ They are making him out to be the asshole here.”

“That is the whole point, Enjolras. The public would like to believe that there is always someone to blame for a breakup. There are a saint and a sinner and if Grantaire calls it quits, their sympathy lies with you,” Musichetta said, annoyingly calm. “You have got to admit; he knows what he is doing.”

All eyes were turned to the office’s flat screen, where the local news was showing a picture of PRide’s office building and a reporter was gleefully explaining that a gubernatorial candidate’s Mysterious Man was about to give a live interview.

Enjolras sprinted out of the door before anyone could stop him.

***

PRide was only a short drive from his office, but Enjolras couldn’t get there fast enough. He had to stop this self-sacrificing nonsense before this mess got even bigger. They were just two people in love, for heaven’s sake. His car screeched to a halt in front of the building and to his dismay, Grantaire was already talking to a bunch of the media. Enjolras had no choice but to hang back.

“—and Enjolras’ was not to blame at all. I wish him the best. Enjolras was the most dedicated man I have ever met. He knew what he could do for Vermont and despite all the baseless insults and the gross violations of privacy he has endured, he remained firmly convinced that the actions of the few cannot represent humanity as a whole. He still believes people will do the right thing, given a chance. And I hope you all prove him right.” 

Grantaire was fending questions from reporters and Enjolras didn’t have enough time to think it through. He shouted the question into the mix.

“If he is such a great guy. Why didn’t you give him a chance too?”

Grantaire stilled, he swallowed visibly and licked his lips, Buying time. “It is not him I am worried about. I am worried _for_ him. I want him to never have to doubt humanity but look at this circus. He should be able to run for this office without any more distraction or anyone saying anything that isn’t about his inclusive, feasible, actionable policy.”

“I think you are wrong,” Enjolras wouldn’t back down, his heart drumming in his chest. This was madness, but Grantaire was staring down the barrel of a gun for Enjolras here, and he couldn’t let him do it alone. “I think the people are sick of this. I think the people can choose and decide for themselves who will bring about a better future for Vermont regardless of their sexual orientation or anyone they love.”

He shouldered a few people out of the way and made it to the front. The reporters murmured in excitement now. Cameras flashed frantically and Enjorlas had to fight for composure. Grantaire was staring at him, wide eyes. He tucked at Enjolras’ sleeves, trying to get him to retreat, but Enjolras was done with retreating. He stood next to Grantaire, turning to face the press once more. 

“I want to win, but not at all costs. I am not compromising any part of myself for this election, I don’t want a Pyrrhic victory. I want one that I earn, fair and square. I love this man and if you know him like I do, you would see that he is a kind, compassionate, smart, wonderful human. And you would love him too. He challenged me and made me work harder than ever to find concrete ways to affirm my conviction and I cannot regret any moment doing that. I will not stoop to my opponents’ level and condemn anyone. The only way to drive out hate and darkness is to flood it with light and still more light. There is no room for this kind of hate in the future, only love. So, we are here, asking you for that chance to prove ourselves. I still believe in you, in all of you. I believe in us and in the people of Vermont. Don’t let me down.” 

With that, he reached out and wordlessly asked for Grantaire’s hand. Enjolras worried for a second that he would pull away, but Grantaire only tightened the hold and gave him a blinding smile.

***

“Come on, come on, motherfuckers” Courfeyrac couldn’t stay still. “We are so close. We can do this.” Everyone was glued to the poll’s number. Over seventy percent of the votes were in and Enjolras had a comfortable lead, but it wasn’t conclusive. He needed a few more points before he could announce the victory. It was down to Enjolras and Babet now.

The screen suddenly changed from the graphs to Babet’s office and he spoke, “This is my formal concession remark and I would like to congratulate Mr.En—“

“Fucking YES!” Courfeyrac screamed, throwing all the papers he was holding into the air. Marius nearly sobbed, his shoulders shaking. The rest of them jumped up and down, attempting the most uncoordinated group hug in history and Enjolras received a rare tackle from Combeferre, his trusted guide. 

“We did it. We did it, ‘Ferre,” Enjolras said, hugging him back as enthusiastically. Their friendship had never needed many words. Their years together were proof enough. They had accomplished great things together and with this win, Enjolras knew they could do so much more. 

For now, though, he needed to see only one person.

Grantaire was in another corner, celebrating with Jehan and Feuilly, but his eyes followed Enjolras’ every move. His face broke into a grin when he saw Enjolras making his way toward him.

Enjolras didn’t give him any chance to say anything, he crushed their lips together and dipped Grantaire down like a soldier coming home from war and let everyone clap and whistles to their hearts’ content. Grantaire shrieked and told him to let go, but he held on tightly, looping his arms behind Enjolras’ neck.

“You did it, you crazy son of a bitch,” Grantaire said with tears in his eyes as Enjolras released him.

Enjolras couldn’t even find it in himself to mind. “ _We_ did it. You were here through all of it. You were here for the worst and the best part of this journey. Will you stay for the next chapter?” Enjolras found that the question had been weighing on him during the last few days. Grantaire wouldn’t like the spotlight. He might have to give up a lot of his privacy just to be seen with Enjolras and he might want something else, now that the real work would begin.

“Try and get rid of me. I’m all in.”

***

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Lunar New Year! I hope you had as much fun reading as I did writing. Here are a few things that went through my mind while writing (in case you are walking away with why, God, why?)
> 
> \- I started writing this right after the inauguration so I had to honor Bernie by setting this in Vermont. Bernie if you read Les Mis fanfic, this one's for you.  
> \- Title definitely did not come from my inability to spell champagne after Taylor Swift's champagne problems and autocorrect changing it to campaign.  
> \- I have been to Vermont exactly once and I apologize for any inaccuracies. The flavor graveyard was a real thing and occasionally you can vote for them to bring "dead" ice cream back too. Ben and Jerry's was sold to Unilever in 2000, but the founders and board retain their executive functions and maintain the brand's social mission (living wage and welfare policy, etc.)  
> \- Carbon footprint from electronic transactions has been increasing at an alarming rate. Enjolras isn't wrong. Emails and texts are pretty minor (but because so many of us use them, the emission piles up). Cryptocurrency and banking, however, use much more energy to authenticate. The BBC quoted a study that estimated BitCoin alone is responsible for around 22m tonnes of carbon dioxide emissions every year, which is greater than all the carbon footprint of the whole of Jordan....so, less Venmo, more cash if you can?  
> \- Freedom from needs is a part of a development theory put forth by Amartya Sen and Martha Nussbaum, among other points, they argue that the state has an obligation to provide people with freedom from their basic needs such as public education, health care, social safety nets, good macroeconomic policies, productivity and protecting the environment. Sen won the Nobel prize for it in 1998. A revolutionary concept, I know.  
> \- Jehan quotes from Tangled, The Office, Plato, and the Brick of course. Canon Jehan loving literature translates to modern Jehan having a penchant for pop culture, sorry I don't make the rules.  
> \- If you don’t know what a jade egg is, count yourself lucky and _do not_ google it.  
> -Authors thrive on feedback so if you would like to let me know what you think/kudo I'd be eternally grateful. Thanks for reading!  
> -I got a [tumblr](https://themandilorian.tumblr.com/)! Come say hi!


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